Supernatural Hiatus Writing Challenge
by im-from-mars-duhh
Summary: These are the stories I wrote as a part of the Supernatural Hiatus Writing Challenge by one-shots-supernatural on Tumblr. This IS NOT a spoiler free zone and warnings and such are given at the beginning of each story. Rated T just in case. Enjoy!
1. Week One

**Title:** Method to My Madness

 **Summary:** Demon Dean has gotten loose in the bunker and now Castiel and Sam have to find him before he can get out.

 **Author:** lovablelucifer (on Tumblr)

 **Prompt:** _"Please, point your gun at me if it helps you relax."_

 **Characters:** Castiel, Demon!Dean, (a little Destiel and past Destiel implied), Sam

 **Word Count:** 2286

 **Warnings:** a teeny tiny bit of blood, some roughness, nothing too bad

* * *

It had happened. He had gotten out. They didn't know how though. He had been tied down really well and had even been in a devil's trap. How could he have escaped?

Sam and Castiel were searching through the bunker, trying to find the demon version of Dean Winchester before he could sneak up and try to kill one of them.

"Cas, I think we should split up." Sam suggested as they walked down the hall. He stopped, holding up the demon blade he had in a tight grip as he looked around for Dean. Cas stopped next to him and looked up.

"Do you think that's a very good idea?" he asked.

"Well, we might be able to find him quicker."

"But Sam, you are unable to use your arm. What if he were to come up behind you? Would you be able to fight him off?"

"Cas, just because my arm is in a sling doesn't mean I can't still fight. Yeah, I'll be at a bit of a disadvantage, but I can still count on you for help, right?" Sam asked. Cas continued to stare up at him, immediately giving him a small nod.

"Yes, you can always count on me." he replied, and at hearing this, Sam nodded in return.

"Okay, I'll go back down this way," Sam started, pointing down the hallway towards the kitchen where they had started their search. "and you continue on down that way. If you find Dean, try to get him into these," Sam held out a pair of handcuffs with engravings in them that he had grabbed from down in their dungeon and handed them to Castiel. "and call out to me. Then we'll try to get him back down to the dungeon and continue the curing." taking it all in, Cas furrowed his eyebrows a bit.

"And what if you find him?" he asked. Sam thought for a moment.

"I have holy water, the demon blade, and know the exorcism. It's bound to weaken him until I'm able to call to you for help. Alright, let's go." Sam replied, and then began to walk back down the hallway before Cas could respond.

"But Sam..." he trailed off, watching as Sam quickly walked down the hallway. He didn't think that it was a good idea for Sam to go off with only holy water, the demon blade, and knowing the exorcism when he was basically one arm short. Dean was a very powerful demon, and yes those things would slow him a bit, but Cas didn't know whether he would be able to get to Sam in time if he were to find Dean first. Castiel was almost sure that Dean would do something that would hurt Sam, the demon that he now was being such a harsh, cruel being.

Cas began to walk down the rest of the hallway, opening doors and checking inside of rooms, making sure that Dean wasn't hiding from them. A few times he thought he saw Dean lurking in the dark corners of a few of the rooms (his heart lurching a bit with hope and fear every time) but it was just a trick of the light. Doubt beginning to fill him, Castiel started to think that maybe Dean had fled. Dean knew every part of this bunker, having lived in it for a while now, so he would know how to get out without them knowing. Also, the fact that he was now a demon helped him even more with that.

His echoing footsteps coming to a halt, Castiel had just begun to reach out to the handle of another door when he heard what sounded like a door slam and then the faint sound of his name being called out.

"Cas!" Sam's voice yelled—though it was a bit hard to hear—and Castiel immediately turned around, running down the hallway towards it. As he ran he could hear the evil, ear piercing laugh that the demon version of Dean had dawned, and it seemed to be coming from Dean's room. He ran to it, his hands flying to the doorknob as soon as he got there, and threw the door open. He was greeted to the sight of Sam, who was on the ground propped up against the foot of Dean's bed, his legs sprawled out and his head limp, blood trickling down from his forehead, down the side of his face, and onto his neck. His chest was rising and falling though, so he was still alive, just knocked out.

Standing there between him and Sam though was Dean, who had a gun pointed at Sam, but was turned to face Castiel, an evil, malicious smirk spread across his face.

"Hey, Cas." Dean spoke in a chillingly cheerful voice. Castiel felt frozen. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was shocked by the current situation. True, he had encountered this demon version of Dean before, but he had always been locked up and (for the most part) unable to do much harm. Now he was free though and standing here before Cas, pointing a gun at his own brother and acting as though this were an everyday thing, like he wasn't just about to attempt to murder them. It just seemed so wrong. Dean loved his brother. Dean loved _him_. How could he be doing this?

"Cat got your tongue?" Dean said, bringing Cas back from his thoughts.

"Dean," it was all he could think of to say. Dean's smirk just seemed to grow wider.

"Oh, what's wrong? Are you scared that I might hurt Sammy?" Dean asked in a mock-baby voice, giving Castiel a small pout. Cas just stood there and stared at him, not knowing how to respond. Dean's smirk returned and he continued speaking. "You know, I don't even have to use a gun. I could just snap his neck with my bare hands, but I like shooting things. It's always been a real fun hobby of mine." Castiel was trying to think of something to say, anything that would get Dean away from Sam before something bad happened.

"Dean... put the gun away." was all he could come up with. Dean seemed a bit taken back by his words, but quickly came back to himself, that smirk still plastered across his face.

"Put the gun away? I mean, I could put the gun away, but didn't you just hear what I said?" he waved the gun, which was a bit unnerving to Cas.

"Dean, we only want to help you."

"Help me? You only want to help me? Well, let me tell you, I don't need your help. I don't _want_ your help. I like who I am. _What_ I am. I love it." Dean responded, and Cas could see that he was starting to get a bit irritated.

"Just let us help you, Dean. We know how to cure you."

"Are you not listening? Again, did you not just hear what I said? I said I _love_ what I am! I don't need a goddamn cure!" Dean yelled, the smirk falling from his face as it was replaced with a hard line. His jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed, Deans blinked, and his eyes were now total black. Seeing this sent a pang to Castiel's chest, his throat tightening a bit. He glanced down at the gun Dean was holding, seeing that his grip was considerably tighter, and when he looked back up, Dean's eyes were back to their normal color. The tightening in Castiel's throat lessened. He just had to think of a plan, a way to get Dean to take the gun off of Sam so that he could have a better chance of getting it away from him without getting Sam hurt in the process.

Straightening up a bit, Castiel looked Dean in the eyes.

"Dean, you should just calm down. Take the gun off of your brother. I know how much it would hurt you if you were to do him any harm." he said. Dean's expression hardened and he shifted his weight to lean more towards Cas.

"Calm down? Really, you're telling me to calm down? I'm a goddamn demon, Cas, and you're telling me to _calm down_?" though he was angry, Dean seemed a bit confused at the approach that Castiel was now making, so Cas decided to continue down this path. As he began to think of something to say next, he heard the gun cock, and his eyes immediately darted to it, seeing that Dean's finger was slowly beginning to put pressure on the trigger. Panic rising inside him, Castiel immediately said the first thing that came to mind.

 **" _Please_ , point your gun at me if it helps you relax."** Dean had been looking down at Sam, but at hearing this, he slowly began to bring his head up to look at Castiel, his finger falling away from the trigger. A wave of relief swept over Cas.

Castiel now brought his gaze to look up at Dean as well, and the two stood there for what seemed like minutes, processing what Cas had just said. Thinking that maybe his words had just connected with the real Dean, a small pang of hope began to swell inside of Cas' chest. He then heard the small thud of Dean's gun connecting with his thigh as he lowered his arm, and the thought that he was able to get Dean to stop pointing the gun at Sam caused the small swell of hope in his chest to begin to grow even more.

As they continued their stare, which seemed to last forever (but was really only about thirty seconds), what happened next all happened so quickly that Castiel was barely able to process what was going on at first. At some point while Castiel and Dean had been staring, Sam had woken up, and processing the momentary window of opportunity, had grabbed his flask of holy water and flung the liquid at Dean. Dean immediately dropped his gun and brought his hands up to grab the now sizzling area on the back of his head and neck, and Sam was standing behind him, the flask of holy water held by the hand in the sling, his other arm stretched out towards Castiel.

"Cas! Give me the cuffs!" Sam yelled. It took him a moment, but Castiel soon realized what was going on and reached into the inner pocket of his coat and grabbed the cuffs, throwing them to Sam, who caught them and quickly placed them on the bed, then leaned forward and grabbed Dean, manhandling him so that he was lying on the bed on his stomach. Sam held him down the best he could and poured some more holy water onto him, turning Dean's attention from trying to escape to grabbing at the pain on his back, but as Sam went to grab the cuffs, Dean bucked back, throwing Sam off of him and onto the floor. Castiel was immediately in motion and ran over to Dean, slamming him back down onto the bed and grabbing the cuffs, quickly pulling Dean's arms back behind him and putting the cuffs on him.

As Castiel stood there, pining Dean down onto the bed, he turned around to look at Sam, who was getting back up.

"Are you okay, Sam?" he asked. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." he answered, and Castiel turned back around to look down at Dean, who was struggling under his hold.

"Oh, Cas, you know I love it when you're rough with me." Dean said, turning around the best he could to face Cas and flash him a cheeky yet wicked smirk. Castiel tried his hardest to keep his blush down. There was no denying that it was a quip that his Dean would've said to him, but it was weird hearing it from this Dean, and he also found it a bit odd how this demon version of Dean could go straight from enraged to flirty in just a few seconds.

Castiel stood up, grabbed the back of Dean's shirt, and pulled him up so that he was standing, his arms bound behind his back. Silently, Sam strode to the door and opened it wider for Cas and Dean, following them out into the hall and closing the door behind him. They then began to make their way back to the dungeon, Dean twisting, turning, and tugging in an attempt to escape every few seconds.

Once they there, Castiel sat Dean down into the chair in the middle of the devil's trap and tied him down, keeping the cuffs on him just in case. Then, just as he stepped out of the devil's trap, Sam nudged his shoulder, pointing down at the trap.

"Look, there's a break in the symbol. It looks like someone came down here and scrapped it with a knife." Sam said. Castiel looked from the break in the symbol back up to Sam, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"But who could it have been?" he asked. The two of them stood there in silence, trying to figure out who could've broken into the bunker to try to set Dean free, when they heard Dean shift in his seat. They both turned their gazes to look at him. He just sat there, flashing them a devilish smirk.

"It was my best friend." he told them, his smirk growing wider. The two turned to look at each other, now knowing full well who it was that had broken into the bunker to set Dean free, a look of hatred filling their faces as they both said his name in unison.

 _"Crowley."_


	2. Week Two

**Title:** Bored

 **Summary:** To beat the boredom, Dean creates a new game. Sam decides to join in, leading to a bet and some brotherly competition. Who will win?

 **Author:** lovablelucifer (on Tumblr)

 **Prompt:** _"I know! Isn't it great?"_

 **Characters:** Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

 **Word Count:** 1270

 **Warnings:** nothing except for the consumption of alcohol and some brotherly competition

* * *

It had been a very boring weekend. A very boring weekend indeed. There had been no leads on anything and no visits from anyone. Needless to say, the Winchester brothers were bored out of their minds and in need of some entertainment.

Sam had just finished taking a shower and was now walking the bunkers kitchen, ready to grab a beer and then head to the library to try to find a book to read. There was bound to be something that he hadn't already read in there somewhere, right?

As soon as he walked into the kitchen, Sam had to immediately duck, so as to not be hit by a flying object. Once the coast was clear, Sam looked up, only to see his older brother Dean leaning against the table in the middle of the kitchen, throwing a beer bottle at the trash can next to the doorway that Sam had just come through. The catch? He had to make it through one of those cheap little basket ball hoops that usually get attached to the back of children's bedroom doors, though this one was duct taped to the wall a few feet above the trash can.

"Heya, Sammy!" Dean called out cheerfully before tipping back a bottle of beer and chugging the contents, then throwing it across the room once finished. It hit the backboard of the small hoop (which had a washcloth duct taped to it, which Sam presumed was for padding) and fell through, landing in the trash can with a clank as it hit the other bottles, miraculously not breaking.

"Dean... what are you doing?" Sam asked, looking between his brother (who was now grabbing a few beers from the fridge) to the trash can half full of beer bottles and back. "Are you free throwing beer bottles?" he asked as Dean returned to his previous spot, setting down the all of the beers except for one, which he held and took the cap off of.

"Yup." Dean replied, tipping back the bottle and downing half of it. He pulled it back for a brief gulp of air and glanced at Sam, who just stood there staring at him. Dean looked to his left and right, then back at Sam, his eyebrows narrowing as he drew his head back a bit. "What are you staring at?"

"What? Oh, uh, nothing." Sam replied.

"Okay, well, stop it. You're creeping me out."

"Sorry, I was just wondering... why are you doing this?" Sam asked. He was just confused on why his brother was playing basketball with beer bottles. Dean shrugged, taking another swig of his beer.

"I'm bored. I actually just came down here for a beer, but I finished it quickly and tossed it. Then that gave me an idea and now here we are." he replied, gesturing between them and the hoop in a circular motion, then brought his drink back to his mouth and finished it. He then pulled his arm back and threw the bottle across the room, where it hit the backboard of the hoop, fell threw, and landed perfectly into the trash can. "Woo!" Dean yelled in triumph, throwing his arms up in victory.

"Wow, you're actually a pretty good shot." Sam commented, a lopsided smile appearing on his lips as he looked from the trash can to Dean. The happiness Dean displayed was contagious and Sam couldn't help but feel a bit proud of his brother, even though the game was childish.

Dean set down his arms and looked at Sam.

"Wanna play?" he asked. Sam thought about it. He was going to go to the library and try to find a book he hadn't read yet, but this seemed a bit more fun. He gave Dean a smile.

"Sure." he replied, then went to go stand next to his brother.

"Okay, so what you do is grab a beer, chug it, then throw it and make it through the hoop and into the trash can. Simple." Dean explained, then grabbed two beers, handing one to Sam, then taking the cap off of his own.

"And you have to continue to get the bottle through the hoop the more drunk you get, I assume?" Sam asked. Dean's smile widened.

"Bingo." he replied, then began to chug his beer, Sam following in suit.

Dean was the first one to finish, letting Sam know this with the loud "Ah!" sound he made as he pulled the bottle from his lips. He then pulled his arm back, aimed, and threw the bottle. The bottle barely made it through hoop, but he still made it into the trash can, and with a "Whoop!" he turned to look at Sam, who had just finished his last sip and was pulling his bottle away from his mouth.

"Okay, your turn Sammy." Dean said. Sam nodded his head and turned to face the hoop. Pulling back his arm and throwing the bottle, he ended up missing by a foot to the right. The bottle hit the wall and shattered, pieces falling down and skidding across the floor.

"Um..." was all Sam could say.

"Oops?" Dean suggested. Sam nodded. "Well, I mean, not everyone can get it on their first try, like me." Dean continued. At hearing this, Sam shot him his bitchface. "What? I just mean it's not that easy. Here, try again." he threw Sam another beer, grabbing one for himself as well, and the two tore off the caps and chugged. Sam emerged the winner and took his time aiming, finally throwing the bottle after a minute and watching (a bit nervously, though he'd never admit it) as it flew across the room and hit the backboard of the hoop, fell through it, and landed in the trash can with a clank. A smile broke out across Sam's face as he let out a little "Woo!" of victory.

 **"I know! Isn't it great?"** Dean said in response to Sam's small cheer. "It's so much fun. Okay, my turn," he said afterwards, then took aim and threw his bottle, making a perfect shot once again. "Yes!" he exclaimed, pumping his fists a bit in triumph. Sam rolled his eyes, which did not go unnoticed by Dean. "What? You jealous that I'm a better shot than you?" he asked. Sam scoffed.

"I am not jealous, and there is no way that you're a better shot than me. I just haven't been playing as long as you, and once I get the hang of it, I'll have made more shots than you."

"Oh yeah? Because you've already missed one shot and I haven't missed a single one, even though I've been playing this longer than you. Face it, little brother, I'm just better at this than you." Dean replied. Sam narrowed his eyes, looking as though he was about to argue, but Dean beat him to it. "You wanna make a bet, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'll make a bet."

"Okay, how about whoever makes it to ten shots first wins... use of the remote for the next week?"

"Deal." Sam replied, and thus, with a shake of their hands, they began on a journey of which would take three hours, and to which Sam would emerge the winner, Dean having lost due to forfeiting because he had to go lie down. Sam didn't feel well either, but he was ecstatic that had won. His price? One helluva hangover to be had in the morning. Needless to say, the Winchesters had found a fun new game to play from now on that was a definite cure to their boredom.


	3. Week Three

**Title:** The Door

 **Summary:** All Dean wants to do is take a nap, but the AC in his bedroom is broken. To make matters worse, his bedroom door won't stay open to let any cool air in. If only he could get his door to stay open, then he would finally be able to sleep.

 **Author:** lovablelucifer (on Tumblr)

 **Prompt:** _"There's an interesting story behind that."_

 **Characters:** Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

 **Word Count:** 1250

 **Warnings:** none

* * *

"I need something to prop open my door..." Dean trailed off. He spoke aloud to no in in particular, besides himself. Dean was in his room, standing at the foot of his bed and staring at his bedroom door. The air conditioning in his room had broken. Sam was currently out buying parts to fix it, but in the meantime all Dean wanted to do was take a nap, but he couldn't because of the heat.

Walking over to the desk in his room, Dean grabbed the chair that was pushed into it and brought it over to the door. Pushing the door back and placing the chair in front of it, he let go and took a step back, watching intensely. Slowly, the chair began to slide. The door was too heavy for it to hold back. Furrowing his eyebrows and letting out a small grunt, Dean took the chair and pulled it back, letting the door close itself. Dean stared at the chair, thinking of something else to do. Yeah, he could place the chair between the door and doorframe to hold it open, but then the door would barely be open and it wouldn't get any cooler. He had to think of something else.

Putting the chair back, Dean stood in front of his desk, looking down at the things it held. Just a few weapons (three guns, four knives, and a pair of nunchucks that he had found in the dungeon) and some fake FBI badges. He then noticed a book stuffed into the corner. He reached forward and pulled it out. It was hardcover, not really thick, and looked as though it could fit under the door. A smile breaking out across his face, Dean tightened his grip on the book and walked over to the door, opened it, then got down onto his knees in front of it. Holding the door open with his right hand, he stuffed the book under with his left. He then stood and kicked it a few times for good measure. It seemed like a pretty good fit. Dean stood back to examine his work, happy that he had been able to solve his problem, or so he thought. Just a few seconds later the door began to slide, the book going with it. It seemed that the hardcover was a bit slippery against the wood floor, letting the heaviness of the door push it with it as it began to close once again. Letting out a frustrated groan, Dean kicked the book, knocking it out from where it was wedged and sending it sliding into the corner of the room. The door closed with a loud thud as Dean stood there, hot and angry.

It must've been a few minutes that he stood there, because when Dean was finally knocked out of his trance, his eyes were dry and so were his lips, but he had thought of a perfect solution.

Licking his lips and blinking a few extra times, Dean pulled open his door and walked out of his room, ready to fix his problem once and for all. He went into the kitchen, going straight to a drawer near the corner, and began to rummage through it. A few seconds later, he finally found what he had been looking for: a brand new roll of duct tape. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he briskly walked back to his bedroom. There was no way this couldn't work. Duct tape can fix anything!

Once he was back in his room, Dean quickly got to work. He pulled back his bedroom door, pushing it against the wall and holding it in place with his foot. He then broke off a long piece of duct tape and placed it on the door, holding it to the wall. He continued with that, breaking off piece after piece and duct taping the door to the wall until the entire roll was gone. Stepping back and throwing the empty roll into the trash can near his desk, Dean looked at the finished piece. The door was completely duct taped to the wall, only a few bald spots peeking out here and there. His smirk now full, Dean turned around and walked over to his bed, jumping in and making himself comfortable. He could feel the coolness of the air from the hallway as it began to seep into his room, and what a feeling it was. Crossing his legs and placing his arms behind his head, Dean closed his eyes and almost immediately began to fall asleep. He was a few second away from bliss when he heard it. A small tearing noise. It sounded like something was being pulled, something was being unstuck... Dean sat straight up and looked at his door, watching in disbelief as the tape slowly began to tear away from the wall. A few seconds later the door was no longer stuck to the wall and it swung shut with a loud thud. Dean let out an audible growl. How could that even be possible? How could the door be heavy enough as to where it could unstick itself from a wall while being held back by an entire roll of duct tape?

Frustrated, hot and tired, Dean shot up from his bed, walked to the door, threw it open, and walked out into the hall. He returned a minute later with a screwdriver and a scowl.

He immediately set to work, unscrewing the door from the frame, and it took him a few minutes, but he still got it pretty quickly. He took a step back and grabbed the door, placing it straight down onto the ground just inside of his room, then briskly walked over to his desk and set down the screwdriver and screws to the door. Happy that that was finally taken care of, Dean got into his bed, glad to finally be able to take his nap with some cool air coming in, and drifted off to sleep.

About an hour later Sam arrived back at the bunker, carrying the bag with the parts he needed to fix the AC with in one hand and the lunch he had waited forever to pick for them in the other.

"Dean! I'm back!" Sam called out as he walked down the stairs into the war room. No response. Furrowing his eyebrows, Sam walked into the kitchen, set down the parts and food, the walked out into the hallway. "Dean?" He called again, still to no answer. He then began to walk to Dean's room, a look of surprise spreading across his face as soon as he got there. "What the..." he trailed off, then looked up to see Dean, who groggily began to sit up in his bed.

"Sammy, you're back," Dean stated, rubbing his eyes and looking up at him. Sam nodded, the look of surprise still on his face, though now mixed with some confusion and slight amusement.

"Dean, what the hell happened here?" Sam asked, staring down at the door on the ground in front of him. He noticed that there seemed to be duct tape sticking out from all around it. He looked back up at Dean, who looked from the door to him, an amused smile falling onto his face. He brought his left hand up to rub the back of his head and his right to point at the door.

 **"There's an interesting story behind that."**


	4. Week Four

**Title:** Bang

 **Summary:** While trying to get a good night's sleep, the two young Winchester brothers are woken up by a loud bang on their motel room door.

 **Author:** lovablelucifer (on Tumblr)

 **Prompt:** _"Be quiet, they'll hear you."_

 **Characters:** Young!Dean, Young!Sam, John Winchester

 **Word Count:** 1679

 **Warnings:** there's a gun, suspense, horror

* * *

It was a normal Tuesday night. Well, as normal as a Tuesday night for a family of hunters could be. John Winchester was out on a hunt, leaving his two sons alone in a motel.

It was nearing eleven pm and Dean thought it best for Sam to go to bed early. Their father would be arriving sometime the next day, and if the six and ten year old boys were well rested and ready to go, that would probably be best. Everyone would be fine, happy, and maybe even get along.

"C'mon now, Sammy. Go to bed. Dad's gonna be back tomorrow and I don't want you in a bad mood and startin' any fights." Dean said as he coaxed his younger brother to one of the two motel beds. Sam turned around, flashing him a scowl.

"I'm not gonna start no fights. If we fight, it's his fault." he replied, stopping to cross his arms angrily. Dean rolled his eyes, turning Sam back around and giving him a light push.

"That's not what I meant, just... c'mon, get to bed. I know you're tired."

"I'm not tired," Sam replied as he tried to suppress a yawn, failing miserably. Dean smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you aren't. Just go to bed." he said as Sam grabbed onto the bed sheets and hoisted himself up onto the bed. He crawled under the sheets and laid down, turning to look at Dean, who was getting ready to get into the other bed. Dean turned off the lamp that was on the nightstand in between the two beds as he began to get into bed, instantly covering them in darkness, save for the few strands of moonlight falling through the curtained window near the motel door.

"Goodnight, Dean." Sam said as Dean laid down, pulling up the sheets and making himself comfortable.

"Night, Sammy." Dean responded, closing his eyes. Just a few minutes later, both boys fell asleep.

A loud bang. That was what woke the two boys up. Dean shot up in bed, his head immediately turning towards the noise, which was at the door. It was still dark out, small slivers of moonlight still peeking through the ratty old motel curtains. In those small slivers of light, Dean briefly caught sight of some movement. Sam let out a small whimper, causing Dean to look at him. His eyes adjusting, Dean could see his younger brother sitting there in his bed, back pressed up against the headboard and the blankets drawn up to his chin as he stared at the door with wide, frightened eyes. The sight sent a pang of sadness through Dean's chest.

Just then, there was another bang, causing Dean to jump and Sam to squeal.

"Shh!" Dean hushed his younger brother, then turned to look back at the door. He could still see a glimpse of movement in the small slivers of light. Whoever— _whatever_ —it was was still there. At seeing this Dean gulped. Of course he knew about all of the horrible monsters that were out there in the world, which was what was scaring him the most right now. What if some type of horrible monster was at their door, just waiting to get inside and kill them?

Another bang on the door, another squeal from Sam.

 **"Be quiet, they'll hear you."** Dean warned him. Sam—who was now shaking—nodded his head. Seeing him so frightened, Dean knew what he had to do. Bringing his own shaky legs out from under the covers and onto the ground, Dean slowly began to walk to his bag, which was on the ground near the motels small dining table. In his bag was a gun his father had given him to use in situations such as this.

Once he finally got to his bag, Dean was quickly down on his knees and searching through it, finding the gun in mere seconds. He always kept it wrapped up in an old shirt and tucked away in the left side of the bag. He'd thought that knowing exactly where it was could be useful, and he had been quite right.

He pulled the gun from the bag and took it out of its wrapping, quickly standing up and backing away, cocking the gun and aiming it towards the door. Now that he was standing there, gun pointed at the door, he didn't know what to do. Should he go and look out the window to see what was at the door? Or should he look through the peephole? Should he just shoot whatever was out there through the door right now and finish this? His father had always told him to "Shoot first, ask questions later." if someone was trying to get in, but he didn't know whether he should shoot through the door right now or wait until the person got in. He'd been told what to do in case something like this happened, but he'd never actually experienced it. This was the first time anything like this had happened to him. He just stood there, not knowing what he should do, and not knowing what to do made him nervous. Really nervous.

There was another bang on the door, this time sounding like it was being hit with something. The sound caused Dean to jump again, his finger squeezing on the trigger of the gun. Though Sam hadn't squealed this time, Dean could hear the faint sound of whimpering coming from behind him, which drove him to finally take action. He had to protect his brother at all costs, and if that meant possibly dying for him, well, so be it.

Dean swallowed the lump that had begun to form in his throat and slowly began to make his way towards the door, having decided to look through the peephole before taking any further action. Each footstep closer he got, the faster his heart began to beat. It was starting to beat so fast that he briefly wondered if whatever was behind the door could hear him approaching. Gun still raised in his sweaty palms, Dean finally came face to face with the door.

It was like he was moving in slow motion. He dreaded having to look into the peephole. What if whatever was out there knew he was right there? What if it broke down the door right then and took him? What would happen to Sam? He kept the gun pointed at the door as he stood on his tiptoes to better see through the peephole. He swallowed again, a bead of sweat falling down his face. Oh, what horrible monster could possibly lie beyond the door...

Dean nearly fainted. He pulled back his gun and hurried away from the door, quickly reaching for the locks and opening it. It swung open wide and in walked John Winchester, a bag in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Dean quickly shoved his gun behind his back, taking a few steps back and looking up at his father. John dropped his bag onto the floor, set his shotgun down onto the small dining room table, then leant over to turn on the lamp next to the door, which he shut right after, doing up the locks. He then turned to look at Dean, a look of slight frustration settled across his face.

"What took you so long?" he asked Dean, his gruff voice loud in the silent room. Dean quickly cleared his throat of the nervousness that had been settled there throughout the ordeal and looked up at his father.

"Sorry." was all Dean could think of to say. John stared at him, taking in Dean's slightly shaken appearance. He narrowed his eyes a bit.

"What's behind your back?" John asked, jutting his chin towards Dean, who's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He had momentarily forgotten that he still had the gun. He felt somewhat reluctant to show his father, worrying that it might make him angry that he had a gun out around Sam.

Dean pulled the gun out from behind his back and held it out for his father to see. He didn't exactly know what to do with it. Set it down? Give it to his father? Would his father take it away from him? All these questions beginning to cloud his mind, the small smile that broke out onto his father's face quickly brought Dean away from his thoughts.

"Protecting Sammy?" John asked. Dean simply nodded in response, causing John's smile to widen. "Good job, Dean." he finished. A small smile now began to form on Dean's lips as well. "C'mon, put that thing away and get to bed. We're leaving in the morning." John flashed his smile to Dean once more before walking forward, briefly resting his hand on Dean's shoulder as he passed, then headed over to Sam.

"Hey, Sammy," he began, sitting down on the foot of the bed to talk to him. Dean looked at his the two as they talked. They were getting along. The hunt must've went pretty well.

The small smile still on his face, Dean walked back to his bag and grabbed the old shirt, wrapped his gun back up, then pushed it back into its place in the left side of his bag. He then got up and turned around, only to see his dad now lying where he had been previously, his snores beginning to fill the room. Dean walked back towards the door, double-checking that it was locked, then turned off the lamp. He had to let his eyes adjust to the darkness before he could make his way back towards the beds. Once there, he climbed into bed with Sam, who was now asleep as well. He gently pushed Sam over so that he could have some room, then got under the covers, drawing them all the way up to his neck. He closed his eyes, ready to finally get some sleep. It wasn't even a minute later when he heard it. It was an unmistakable sound. Someone— _something_ —had banged on the door.


End file.
